


Too Many Variables

by aeternamente



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternamente/pseuds/aeternamente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie and Darcy have a <em>chat.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Variables

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imaginarycircus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Accidental fic](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/18548) by imaginarycircus (cirqueimaginaire on tumblr). 



> Read imaginarycircus's fic first, because it's lovely, and because the first line in my fic will make a whole lot more sense once you do.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t been killed by chemical poisoning.”

Lizzie was a little embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that she had spent most of the time since her previous conversation with Darcy formulating this witty opening line. When he called again, she said it in lieu of a hello.

“Not yet, at any rate,” Darcy responded with his characteristic sardonic edge. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing it since she left Pemberley, but now, hearing the subtle, wry humor in his voice felt strangely comforting.

“I… um…” Lizzie trailed off. It had been a promising beginning—an easy, shared joke—but what now, she felt a bit at a loss. “How are you?” she asked. She was stalling and she knew it… but also, she was genuinely curious.

He breathed in through his nose. “I’ve been better. It’s been a long day.”

“Oh… well if you’re too tired, I understand, I just—”

“No! No, that’s not—I want to talk to you, Lizzie, really I do.”

Lizzie could hear the sincerity in his voice, could imagine the earnest look in his eyes, the exact, penetrating shade of blue. And try as she might, she couldn’t push away the thought that occurred to her at that moment—that there were not many people William Darcy would wish to speak with when he was this tired, but Lizzie was one of them.

“So,” he continued, “what was it that you wanted to… ah…  _chat_  about?”

Lizzie giggled. “You’re making fun of me now.”

“Yes I am.”

“You should take me more seriously.”

“I—” He paused. “Believe me, Lizzie, I take you very seriously.”

She believed it. His tone of voice set off an electric buzzing in the pit of her stomach. And she knew she had to say it now, what she’d meant to say all along, ever since she knew…

“I wanted to thank you for… for what you did for Lydia—”

“Lizzie…”

“I just… I don’t know what we would have done if—if that video… Lydia had already been through so much—”

“It was the least I could do,” Darcy said. “After all, it’s my fault it happened in the first place.”

“ _Your_  fault?”

“I gave him what he wanted,” he said, his voice growing soft and rough. “When he threatened my sister, I gave him exactly what he wanted, and foolishly expected that he wouldn’t want more eventually.”

“Is that why you did it,” Lizzie asked, “because you thought it was your fault?”

“Partially.”

He did not elaborate. Lizzie hardly dared to breathe, much less speculate on what the other part of his motivation might have been. A part of her—a starry-eyed romantic part of her that she routinely ignored—had an idea of why he did it, and whispered it into the silence:  _it was for me_.

The skeptic in her found it necessary to ask: “What was the other reason?”

“I know what it’s like,” he said, “when your sister is hurting and you feel powerless, unable to do anything to help. I knew that you needed to focus on being there for her, so I took care of the rest. I didn’t want you to be overburdened.”

Of course. He had been in her place once. Lizzie could have kicked herself for not seeing this before, but he had been there once, and he understood everything she’d felt and wished and lamented over the past few weeks.

“Thank you,” she said again. “I know I thanked you on my videos before I knew it was you, and after I knew it was you, but I needed to say it to your face… or over the telephone, I guess. I don’t know how I could ever repay you—”

“ _Don’t_ —” His voice was severe, pained. She could hear his calm exterior unraveling in the harshness of his voice, and suddenly, the small, thin slab of electronics she held against her ear felt so useless. She wanted to reach out to him—give him a hug, a comforting hand on the shoulder— _anything_.

He took a few breaths, each one more measured, less ragged than the last. When he spoke again, his voice resumed its usual careful smoothness. “I don’t want you to repay me. I simply want you to be happy.”

Lizzie wished she could satisfy him on that point, but her life was so unsettled and uncertain, and she couldn’t figure out how to move forward. _You can’t predict happiness_ , Charlotte’s voice echoed in her head.  _Too many variables_. Lizzie was lost in the variables, but she thought she was starting to get an idea of what one of those variables might be, and she thought maybe, just maybe, he might now be within her reach.

“I will be happy… eventually,” she assured him. “But I have to know—why didn’t you tell me what you did?”

“I wanted to give you space,” he answered. “You needed time with your family and with your sister, and it was not my place to be in the middle of all of that.”

Damn it, that was actually a good answer. “I can’t argue with that,” she admitted.

“That’s disappointing,” he said. “I do enjoy arguing with you.”

Lizzie laughed incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am absolutely serious,” he insisted. “You challenge me. You make me see things in new ways. And—” He cut off abruptly. Lizzie thought she could feel the heat of his blushing through all of the distance between them.

“What?” she prodded.

“Nothing.”

“Darcy.”

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” he protested.

“Try.”

A long silence followed, and Lizzie knew that he was gathering his thoughts together, trying to place them in some semblance of a logical order. She could almost see his eyes moving back and forth, as if putting each idea in its proper place.

“I think,” he said at last, “you’re so beautiful when you’re defending something you care about. Sometimes I find myself picking an argument with you just to see the look on your face.”

Lizzie was stunned. She felt a tingling spread through her whole body, and suddenly, a dozen or so of their past conversations sprang to mind, their meaning and significance clicking into place like puzzle pieces.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no,” Lizzie reassured him. “It’s… fine. I… a lot of things make sense now.”

Darcy made no response. Lizzie could still feel his embarrassment radiating from him in waves.

“Listen, Darcy,” Lizzie said, feeling her hand starting to shake against her phone, and all too well aware that the shaking had spread to her voice, “if you ever want to… call me again or… or anything… you—that would be—I’d like that.”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when he did, his voice was tentative: “Could I visit you?”

He must be able to hear her heart pounding. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, sure, that’d be—I mean if you’re not too busy, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I will let you know when I make more definite plans, but are you free this weekend?”

Was she free? Other than her prolonged, ongoing date with her thesis, she was wide open. “Yes,” she said. “Absolutely.”

“Great,” he said, “That’s… good. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you later, then.”

She nodded before realizing he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, see you later, Darcy.”

She hung up and stared at her phone, which was busily informing her that her call had just ended. She blinked a few times, not entirely believing what had just happened. But then the reality began to settle in, warm and comfortable and a little dizzying, like spring sunshine.

She smiled. She grinned. She closed her eyes and shivered and let out a soft squeal. She flopped back onto her bed and let the hand holding her phone rest just over her heart, just over the key pendant she was still wearing.

Darcy didn’t know it, but at least for that moment, he had gotten his wish: she was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a sequel! [A Chat Unexpected](http://archiveofourown.org/works/723201) by Realmer06 (intelligencehavingfun on tumblr). It features Mr. Bennet being made of awesomesauce. Go read it. :)
> 
> (I am loving this sequel train! I hope it continues!)


End file.
